An Afternoon With Denise

Denise is an attractive 35-year-old married to two kids and a dentist, living a suburban, upper-middle class life. Long ago she exchanged the vestiges of youthful excitement for a 6-bedroom starter castle, twin Volvos, private school for the kids, and the dentist. At 5’6 and around a supple 120 pounds, she has sparkling green eyes, alabaster and lightly freckled Irish skin, and a puckish smile fashioned by suggestively pouting lips. Her reddish-brown, shoulder-length corkscrew hair adorns a graceful neck that descends to eye-catching boobs, normally framed by necklines chosen for modest but tantalizing cleavage. On her backside is an ass tailor-made for faded jeans, the seam of which first hugs the contours of firm and muscular cheeks and then, down under, the lips of a meticulously trimmed muff. In short, daily visits to the gym returned the tone to her body that two pregnancies took away.

Hubby likes his sex vanilla, not to mention his lifestyle. Occasionally he rolls onto her with 5 uninspired inches, mechanically plowing into an arid twat and grunting through a predictable routine that quickly culminates in his orgasm. She responds by manufacturing a convincing and simultaneous exclamation to mimic the same. However, once a week I have been enjoying her alter ego, a horny, creative little slut who greets me at the door with a damp little circle already staining her cotton panties.

A year of kiddy lacrosse without hubby told me he was either too busy or too unconcerned to participate, and that was the scuttlebutt among our mutual acquaintances. In his absence, politely and congenially Denise and I exchanged weekly pleasantries. While I entertained fantasies of her stripping to twist gymnastically into revealing spread-eagle positions, we platonically discussed the minutia of our lives: peewee sports, our kids in the same kindergarten class, mortgages, and home repair.

But one blessed day her daughter forgot her sweater at our house after my son’s birthday party. Trying not to sound too eager, I volunteered to return it on my way to work. I called first, the day before, to let her know I was coming, and she sounded delighted and grateful, not having remembered that she had misplaced the sweater in the first place.

The next day when she answered the door her outfit, at least in my overactive imagination, told me she had anticipated my visit. I expected formless sweats, the attire of many stay-at-home moms. You don’t dress up mid-day to clean the house or receive a forgotten sweater. But today she wore a stonewashed, silk, eggplant-colored blouse, not sheer but thin as gossamer, unbuttoned to reveal just a hint of a dark olive bra and the pallid tops of her ample boobs. Unbelted faded jeans hugged her ass like a second skin. As she greeted me with a sweetly nervous smile I worked to avoid staring at both taut nipples protruding through the thin material of her top. Going barefoot on a chilly autumn day highlighted a gold chain that adorned her petite ankle.

We anxiously chatted in the hall, and after our talk lengthened and grew relaxed she invited me in for a cup of coffee. From the dining room table I drank in the twin orbs of her backside as she primed the coffee maker. She repeatedly turned to look at me throughout our talk, and in that half-turned profile she highlighted all of her lovely assets. But this private conversation lacked the mundane, matter-of-fact quality of our public encounters. She clearly hurried to make the coffee. Somehow I sensed, and I am not used to such prognostication, that I might not be going to work that day. I started to daydream about canceling a series of meetings.

Seeing a family picture I broached a subject new to us, marriage, and she brushed off the topic by saying that she did not want to spoil her mood. When I excused myself to use the bathroom I noticed emerald green satin lingerie draped across the washing machine and, in the top of the open trash can, a package that recently held olive, cotton, string bikini panties that appeared to match her brassier. My cock started to stiffen almost immediately, because everyone I have ever known buys new underwear for very specific and special occasions. I could only hope that this was one of those occasions.

Returning to the kitchen I noticed that she had chosen to sit close to my chair. Her legs were crossed and extended quite close to me. The foot with the anklet dangled languorously and swinging her toes back and forth in my direction. Assertively, since I really didn’t know her all that well, I admired her anklet. She afforded me a closer look when she raised her leg and placed her foot in my hand, turning it outward to better reveal both her ankle and her inner thigh. Her muscular leg was limp in my hand as I tentatively cradled her heel in my palm.

“Ted thinks it is not exactly adult jewelry. Do you like it” she asked.

“Very much,” I replied, “there’s nothing childish about it on your ankle.”

When I moved to return her foot to the floor her leg slowly fell uncrossed, and both legs lazily stretched towards me. Her pussy lips were prominent and puffy in the crotch of her aged jeans and noticeably split by that lucky seam into an inviting camel toe. Her eyes caught mine as I stared mesmerized at the faded denim of her crotch. I sat forward with what I imagine was a serious and gently determined look on my face and, doing so, spread my legs to reveal the beginnings of a spontaneous erection. She wordlessly held my gaze, her emerald eyes glistening around dilating pupils.

Time slowed to a crawl as I made a decision and chose between retreating and acting on my lust. Rather than fumble through a cliché, I leaned forward and said, “Forgive me if I am making a terrible mistake,” and kissed her softly. Following her lead and intensity I received her probing tongue in an awkward, still-seated, half-embrace that quickly moved from a hesitant embrace to our lips roughly crushing together.

Soon she lightly touched my chest to break the kiss. With her hand planted on my right breast she said, with a conspiratorial smile, “the only mistake we’ve made has been waiting this long.” Then clenching my shirt in a fist, she pulled me forward into another kiss as her arms moved to encircle my neck.

We kissed endlessly to breathlessness, our tongues and lips dancing in a frenzied ritual. My hands soon found their way to the sides of her breasts, firm to the point of exploding the supple confines of her lingerie. The door was now open, and I felt free to explore her fully. Pulling away from our embrace, I knelt between her legs and laid a hand on her pussy. Her crotch was soft, swollen, and radiating warmth. She responded to my touch by rotating her hips slightly upward and into my palm while further parting her thighs.

A barely audible “oh” rode her breath as she exhaled contentedly, as if she had been holding the breath all morning and had been waiting for me to liberate it. With a finger she tickled her mound by tracing an outline of the fingers of my hand to encourage whatever I intended. But I am never quick. Lovemaking, though at times rough and frenzied and best typified as “fucking,” should be an act of modulation, punctuated by highs and lows. And this was a time to tease and deny.

I straightened and removed my hand from her pussy while hers remained there quite naturally. I reached a finger toward her lips, but she intercepted my hand at the wrist and moved to lick the pad of my index finger and place it into her mouth, first the tip and then the full length. She did not suck it, but rather held it in her wet warmth. First I felt the playful sharpness of her front teeth and then the silken attention of her tongue as she sinuously swirled it around my finger, her eyes momentarily closed, a simple act that drove me wild with possibilities.

“Stand up,” I roughly whispered, and I guided her to her feet and into me with one hand curled inside of both her blouse and her bra, feeling the warmth of her breast on the back of my hand as our long, passionate kisses began to sting our lips. She clutched at my waist and then at my ass, pulling me tightly against her to grind her stomach into my engorged cock as her hands began to squeeze and dig into the base of my ass cheeks and the backs of my balls.

She backed away and pulled my hand from her blouse with so as to unbutton it, circling with a finger the silhouette of an erect nipple in the opaque cup of her bra, her eyes half-closed as she drank in the sensation. I fleetingly imagined her masturbating alone on her couch to punctuate a long, boring day, her jeans pulled to her knees, her hands silently working inside her panties. She placed my hand on her breast where hers had been, holding her hand over mine while all the while we kissed, our tongues exploring as our lips became redder. Again this was moving too fast for me.

I stepped a half-pace back from her and said in a gently commanding manner, “strip for me.”

“Here?” she questioned, belying both nervousness from the unfamiliar request and a willingness to please.

“Yes, but just to your panties,” I said, as I smiled and sat down to watch, my finger tracing the outline of my cock through my jeans.

Like a schoolgirl about to get laid for the first time, self-consciously touching her tongue to her upper lip and front teeth, she pulled her blouse from her jeans and unbuttoned the last button. After first pausing for a moment to think she turned away. She removed the blouse and let it drop to the floor to reveal her back crossed with her thin bra strap. I soon learned that what I first thought was shyness was an erotic theatricality that she had little chance to exercise in her marriage. With a snap she undid her front-clasp bra and then turned back, still covering her breasts from my eyes with two fingers holding the bra in place.

“You are gorgeous,” I said, my fingers kneading the head of my cock, still horizontally squashed in my jeans.

Keeping her eyes locked to mine she unzipped her fly with one hand as she let her bra fall to either side of her breasts. Her round, gravity-defying breasts, 34C I later learned, stood out from her chest as if still supported. Pink, petite and set in small, perfectly round areola, the skin of her nipples was drawn tight and framed against the alabaster skin of her abundant globes.

“My god you have a fucking perfect body” I told her, emphasizing the word ‘fucking’ as she blushed full from the compliment. She knew she had great tits and loved the praise she rarely heard from her husband. She stroked both nipples with her thumbs, almost absentmindedly, and then focused her attention lower as she began to grow comfortable with our tryst.

Her unzipped jeans revealed the top of her panties. Now she smiled confidently, again touching her tongue to her upper lip and teeth, and turned away after finally letting her bra drop to the floor. Now fully topless, her hands slipped inside her jeans as she began to push them off of her hips to reveal her perfectly formed ass. Her tiny panties still hid the heart-shaped cheeks that in the center fell into a deep crack that began as a dainty crease above her panty line and obviously widened as it descended to her pussy. She adjusted her panties as her jeans fell to her knees and then her ankles. She stepped out of them to reveal heaven on earth, the most stunning butt I have ever seen in the flesh.

Her panties, tight and form-fitted cotton, dipped into her crack and slashed sideways across her cheeks. She turned to face me as her fingers glided across her stomach and down to stroke suggestively her pubic bone, one hand behind her fondling her ass, her eyes heavy lidded and staring straight through me, betraying her escalating desire. She wasn’t smiling this time when she finished her turn.

She stepped forward, lifted one foot and placed it on the edge of my chair, wiggling her toes as they slid just under my balls, and asked me to remove her anklet. As I did I marveled at the growing damp circle in the crotch of her panties that now had far eclipsed its point of origin. I handed the anklet to her, and she teasingly held open the waist of her panties and dropped in the anklet, then returning her foot to the floor. Her fingers returned to her mound as she smiled and clenched together her legs, suggestively flexing her upper thigh muscles.

“I think the coffee is ready,” she whispered impishly with raised eyebrows.

By now I was so damned aroused that I could barely think straight. I should have acted romantically and tenderly kissed her. Instead, I did the animal thing and dropped to one knee, now barely able to contain the impulse to violently shred her panties and unceremoniously fuck her on the table between the coffee cups and the toast crumbs. Starting at her knees I slid a hand between her thighs, making circles as it climbed toward its prize. She obligingly parted her legs and returned one foot to the seat of the chair, as my fingers came to rest on the underside of her pussy now so close to my mouth. I traced the smooth and hairless skin along the outer seams of her panties. Reaching one finger inside, she shivered as link by link I drew out the anklet wet with her desire, feeling her trimmed pubic hair and distended lips on the backs of my knuckles. I dropped the anklet on the table and then savored her juices by rubbing my finger on my lips.

I huskily ordered her to turn around, place her hands on the table and spread her legs. She turned and bent so low that her breasts were flattened on the table, her arms stretched over her head and hyper-extended as if she were pinned in that position. Her legs assumed a spread-eagle position that parted her veiled crack. She arched her back and cocked her ass upward in a way that stretched tighter the cloth of her panties, slightly pulling the fabric into her split. She breathed huskily as on all fours I unhurriedly licked and kissed and bit my way up the backs of her legs, starting with each ankle, first one and then the other. After caressing the length of each leg my tongue came to rest at the outer seam of her panties. I softly kissed all over the bare part of her ass, making sure as to avoid touching her luscious and inviting fissure. I blew my warm breath through her panties into her pussy and the crack of her ass as I dragged my nails up and down the backs of her legs.

“Please” she implored as her thighs began to squirm, pushing her lovely bottom into my face.

Slipping her panties off of each cheek and bunching the material thong-like into the crack of her ass, I flicked my tongue up and down the newly revealed landscape of her crevasse. I sucked and gently bit her firm globes, her perfumed and animal scent filling my head near to bursting as she showed her approval by further pushing toward me her derriere. The tang of her ass and pussy really began to get under my skin as I traced the outermost ridge of her crack with my tongue, painting a thin line on the circle of darker, hairless skin that formed the outermost ring of her little sphincter, still hidden and awaiting my attention. Her legs started to weaken as she whimpered “please.”

I pulled down the rear of her panties just enough to reveal the top half of her fissure and tickled it with my tongue as my hand between her legs massaged her pubic mound through her sopping panties. When her legs began to buckle I suggested that we find a bed as I slipped her panties back into place.

She arose and ran on wobbly legs to the living room, making sure that the front door chain was strung, preventing anyone from entering without first ringing the bell. She returned, hungrily rubbing my cock through my pants as she kissed me wildly. Getting in front of me, she placed my hands on her ass to lead me to the bedroom. I grabbed her panties with one finger as if they were a sort of tail and let myself be led.

She hurriedly pulled the sheers in the bedroom and unexpectedly leaped under the covers, saying mischievously, “I can take it from here. Thanks for stopping by.”

We both laughed, and then seriously determined she said “your turn to strip stud. I can’t wait to see you.”

I sat and took off my shoes and socks, and then stood and removed my sweater and undershirt to reveal my 6’, 200 lb frame. I took off my belt and she said, “stop. Come here.”

She sat up and, while placing a massaging hand on my crotch to finally feel my manhood, proceeded to suck my nipples, one after the other. She undid my button and unzipped my fly, finally running her fingers through my pubic hair. “Mmm, go on,” she said.

I first took off my pants. But I stopped at my bikini briefs with my cock bulging through the material and reached in to stroke my cock, which I managed to keep in my briefs to draw out the suspense. She never looked me in the eye this whole time, instead focusing her attention on my crotch and legs. I finally removed my underwear to reveal my cock, eight circumcised inches curving gently to a head that is larger proportionally than the shaft. I stroked myself a bit longer, my cock pulsing from excitement, looking at her hidden under the covers, which she now kicked down to reveal her body, her legs spread akimbo as her finger ran up and down her wet slit, still hidden in her soaked panties.

“Stand on the bed and let me see you” she said. I somewhat self-consciously mounted the bed and stood with my arms on my hips, first facing away from her. She rose to her knees and, coming up behind me, placed one hand between my legs on my balls and played with them as she kissed all over my ass. I turned and she took a long breath and said “oh my.” Taking my cock in her hand, she rubbed her parted lips back and forth on my member. She licked the precum from the head, which caused my whole body to jerk as she hit the sensitive tip. I knelt in front of her and kissed her long and hard.

She moaned and said, “We have to fuck before I go crazy. But you are much longer than I’m used to, so be gentle.”

I replied that I had never finished with her ass. That tongue again touched her upper lip through a smile, and she rolled over without prompting, now laying flat. She peeled her panties off of her ass to reveal fully her hidden fruit. I finished removing them, positively drenched. She has that sort of crack that was always slightly parted at the base, offering a glimpse of her ass hole and her pussy even when her legs were still together. I spread her legs about as far as they would go, while she arched her back and pushed up her butt for a deliciously sultry effect. Her little puckered ass hole was hairless and quite tiny, a pink and tan color, and so small that it probably never had been breached. I touched it with one finger, just to see how she would react, and though she jumped slightly as gooseflesh covered her legs in response, she pushed into me rather than withdraw from the sensation. The thought of fucking her ass made my cock feel hard enough to burst, my pre-cum now beginning to run down the head.

I grabbed her panties and lay down next to her. I untangled them and placed the crotch over her mouth and kissed her through the wetness. She pushed her mouth frantically into mine when I did this, breathing in deeply to inhale her scent.

Then, true to my word, I moved to her ass hole. Laying on my stomach between her legs, I first licked the length of her crack, starting with the back of her pussy with my nose tickling her ass hole and continuing to the top of her crack, painting up and down with my wet lips and the firm tip of my tongue. I momentarily rose and pulled back both of her arms to place her hands one on each cheek. She followed my lead and obediently spread further her ass cheeks. Her little muscle was so tightly drawn that even this stretching failed to draw it open even a centimeter. I first licked her cheeks between her individual fingers so subserviently holding open her luscious flesh. I eventually focused on rimming her wrinkled little ass hole as she began to moan incoherently with her face buried in the pillow. I continued to rim and gently stab at her little tailpipe, telling her that I never imagined prim and proper Denise would behave like such a slut.